


Just My Type

by Nailsandtraintracks



Series: Playlist- IT's a Band AU Baby! [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Beverly Marsh, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Demisexual Mike Hanlon, F/M, Flirting, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Stanley Uris, Heterosexual Ben Hanscom, Idiots in Love, It band au, M/M, Pansexual Bill Denbrough, Reddie, Slow Burn, The Losers Club in a Band (IT), no I don't take suggestions, yes I have inspiration from many fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23421694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nailsandtraintracks/pseuds/Nailsandtraintracks
Summary: It's a Reddie-oriented IT band au with background Benverly and Stan/Bill/Mike, what more is there to say?
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris
Series: Playlist- IT's a Band AU Baby! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684798
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Just My Type

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I'm writing based on a playlist I created for Reddie. I hope to write more now that Miss Rona has taken everything I love from me. lol
> 
> My Type by Saint Motel

“Okay, but what if I get lost or you guys ditch me or something and I have to get a ride from a complete fucking stranger or call a taxi. Do you know the statistics of how many people are kidnapped in this state by just taxi or uber drivers alone? And then if i do get home late, my mom’s gonna fucking kill me for being out past curfew and i won’t leave the house for fucking weeks-”

“Eddie, calm down. You’ll be fine and we won’t ditch you. Promise.” Stan’s slightly annoyed, but nevertheless calming voice cut Eddie off from his rant. Eddie turned towards Stan, who was shifting through his closet looking for a shirt for Eddie to wear. Stan didn’t look up as he continued, “And anyway, you’re not the only one who hates parties. I get it, but we need to support our friends. They've worked hard on this.”

Eddie sighed and nodded. “I know, I know, sorry for freaking out.”

“That’s quite alright, but you can make it up to me by getting ready so we can leave on time.” Stan’s voice may have been a little annoyed, but the small smile on his face gave it away. He was excited. Eddie was too, but he’d never voice it out loud. 

Eddie laughed and got up from his place on his bed to find a nice pair of pants. He ended up choosing his short overalls. Stan picked something out of his closet and handed it to Eddie. It was a yellow sweater, his favorite Stan would insist, but Eddie would never admit it.

“Gee, fucking thanks, now i don’t have to write ‘GAY’ on my forehead for everyone to know.”

Stan chuckled, “Have you seen the way you act? You never have to write ‘GAY’ on your forehead. It’s fucking obvious as shit.”

“That’s homophobic and I’m reporting you for a hate crime.”

“Have you forgotten that I, too, am a homosexual?”

“That means nothing to the laws of this land.”

“What does that even mean. -Nevermind, just get ready, Bill’ll be here in ten minutes.” Stan walked out of Eddie’s bedroom and into the bathroom, already dressed in pressed pants and a blue button up. 

Eddie pulled the sweater over his head; it smelled like fabric softener. He clipped his overalls together and left the room. Stan was still in the bathroom, so he knocked.   
“You done primping yet? I know you gotta get those curls perfec-”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m almost done. You can come in.” The door to the bathroom opened and Eddie walked in. Stan was brushing his teeth meticulously, careful not to miss a single tooth. Eddie stood next to him and gelled his hair out of his eyes. It was getting a little long; he’d need a haircut soon. Satisfied, he grabbed his toothbrush and put mint toothpaste on the bristles.   
Next to him, Stan was watching him carefully. Eddie raised an eyebrow and asked, “What’re you looking at dipshit?”

Stan grinned and answered. “You look like you have rabies.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at his friend before spitting into the sink and washing off the excess toothpaste, “Being near Richie’ll do that for you.”

That earned a snort from Stan. Eddie sprayed himself with a body spray and examined his reflection in the mirror. Everything looked in order. He walked back into his room to put on his maroon converse and grab his fanny pack. He briefly wondered if he would be warm enough, but decided against bringing a jacket. It was late May; he’d be fine. 

Eddie sat down on his bed and waited for Stan to tell him it was time to leave. He focused on the wall to his right. It was covered in photos of the Losers and him. Freshman year, Bill had decided he was a photographer and saved up to buy a polaroid camera. His enthusiasm for photography had only built from there. Now all the losers had a multitude of pictures of each other in their rooms somewhere. There was the Christmas party they had had two years ago that ended up with Richie holding mistletoe above Eddie and chasing him around the house until Richie, the unathletic fuck, had literally collapsed. More pictures of holiday parties. Richie and Eddie dressed as Rodrick Heffley and Arthur Read. Bev and Mike smiling at the camera with Eddie, flower crowns on them. Eddie and Stan playing the game of Monopoly that had almost destroyed their friendship. A fuckton more of some of the best moments of his life. 

Eddie’s eyes slid to the picture nearest his pillow. It was of him and Richie. The day Eddie had come out to the Losers. Richie had lifted him off his feet and spun him around in excitement. Both Richie and Eddie were laughing, the joy in Richie’s face evident, while the Losers in the background celebrated. He’d never tell Richie, but it was his favorite picture.

“EDDIE!” 

Eddie jumped. It was time to leave.

As Eddie made his way downstairs, a honk rang from outside. Stan yelled at him, “Come on, we’ve gotta go. Bill’s waiting. You got everything you need?”

Eddie nodded and they made their way out of the front door, locking it behind them. Bill’s grinning face was peering at them from the driver's seat. As Stan and Eddie sat in the passenger and back seat, respectively, Bill asked, “Y-y-you guys r-ready?”

Eddie nodded, then said, “Wait, Stan did you-”

Stan cut him off, “Yeah I left a note for your mom. I said you’re staying the night at mine.”

“W-wait, where’s your m-m-om, Ed-eddie? Shouldn't she be br-br-breathing down you-your neck about me p-p-p-icking you up or s-something?”

“She’s at her book club. Won’t be home until 7:30. Also, she has a good reason to be worried; your driving is absolute fucking shit.”

Bill looked as if he was going to argue but then thought about it and gave a ‘true’ getsure. He nodded, pulling away from the sidewalk and turning up the radio, where Boys by Lizzo was playing. Eddie figured it was appropriate, especially once Bill started mumbling along with the song. Stan just smiled. (Make a girl go crazy (four, three).  
Bill got louder, “I like the biG BOYS-”, he pointed to himself, then at Eddie.

Eddie joined in on what Richie called ‘his’ part, “ITTY BITTY BOYS-” Bill continued, “MISSISSIPPI BOYS, INNER CITY BOYS-”, Bill turned to Stan with a sly smile. Stan just rolled his eyes and monotoned, “I like the pretty boys with the bow tie-”. They joined together, Stan still reluctantly, but smiling all the same, “GET YOUR NAILS DID, LET ‘EM BLOW DRY-”

By the time Bill had reached the Barn, they were all rightfully pumped for the night. The grass outside the Barn was already covered in cars and high schoolers, ready for the party that night. Eddie could feel the pounding music as soon as they had pulled up, which only got more intense when he stepped out of Bill’s car. He moved near Stan and they shared a nervous smile. Neither of them were really the loud noise, crowded party type. Unfortunately, their friends were. Bill whooped in excitement and grabbed Stan and Eddie’s arms, eager to enter the Barn. His case in point. 

The Barn was quite literally a barn, only much cleaner and there was a makeshift stage and lights and shit. It was owned by Max Turner, a senior at their high school who had been held back a few times. His parents had let him turn the (empty) barn on the edge of their property near the road into a party hotspot for the teens at Derry High. Eddie suspected that Max’s parents weren’t as present or as sober as they seemed, but that was definitely not his business. But he wasn’t complaining; some of his funnest (“That’s not a word.” “Shut up, Stan.”) nights had been spent there. 

Bill didn’t let go of Eddie and Stan even when they stepped into the Barn. The sight before Eddie made his head spin. It was already packed, with hundreds of tipsy kids dancing to the loud music. The colored lights were flashing and filling the open space with a soft glow. It smelled like alcohol and sweat. 

[Waiting for a ride in the dark  
Drinking in the lights  
Following neon signs]

“The party barely started a half an hour ago, how the hell are they drunk already?” Stan’s voice rang out over the music; he was almost yelling as he gestured into the crowd.

“Fuck if I know. When the fuck did Max Turner get a disco ball?” Stan shrugged. 

“G-g-guys come on, I s-see Be-be-ben.”

[The city is my church  
It wraps me in its blinding twilight]

Stan and Eddie followed Bill through the mass of sweaty people, accidentally shoving a few stray dancers, and over to the back right of the barn. Bill yelled, “BEN!”, who looked up at them and gave them a toothy smile. He was already holding a bottle, which meant Stan was the designated driver. 

“Hey guys, what are-”  
“STANIEL! BILLIAM!”

Richie’s voice rang out over the music as he made his way over to them, red solo cup in hand. When he got closer, he gasped, “EDDIE SPAGHETTI? Could it be? I didn’t know you were still fucking even alive!” He flung his arm over Eddie and tried to kiss the top of his head.

Eddie ducked it and frowned at Richie, “One, don’t call me that. Two, I had to convince her she’d be okay leaving me for one night. Do you know how boring as shit Days of Our Lives is? She’s still mad about when I was late for curfew because I was dumb enough to have you drive.”

Richie laughed, “It wasn’t my fault the goose did that.”

“Umm. What? Yes, the fuck it was. You were the one who wanted to pet it!” Richie just laughed again. 

“H-he’s right, R-r-rich.”

“Whatever, who’s to say whose fault it was, really? I think that the past is the past. Why reflect on it? Anyway, THIS IS FUCKING AWESOME? I shit you not, I just saw Greta Bowie grinding on Victor fucking Criss. Bev swears they were practically fucki-”

Stan cut in, “Beep, beep Richie. We don’t need to know. Speaking of Bev, where is she and Mike?” 

“Why, my good man. The answer would be up there.”

They all looked where Richie was pointing. There, on the makeshift stage, was Bev and Mike setting up their equipment for the show. Richie yelled, “HEY BEV!” and waved. Both her and Mike turned. Mike grinned, his white teeth visible in the dim and lights and waved; Bev flipped him off, then went back to her keyboard.

Eddie looked back at Richie who still had his arm around him and then to the cup held precariously in his hand and asked, “Shouldn’t you be fucking helping them or something? Why are you even drinking shithead? You need to get ready for the show.” 

“Yeah, he’s got a point Rich. You’ve been here for like an hour and Bev said you haven’t done anything,” Ben imputed helpfully. Richie shot a hand to his heart and gasped dramatically,   
“Haystack, how dare you, I did my part, she’s just lazy. And anyway they’ve got enough help. You wanna know what I think?”

“No, you heathen.”

“N-not r-really.”

“Fucking no, dickhead.”

Richie continued, “Personally, I think you need more help than them, my good lads. Loosen up. Kick back. See, at least Ben’s got it right,” Richie gestured toward Ben’s drink.  
Bill looked vaguely interested. He turned to Stan, “W-w-wanna get a dr-dr-rink? We can g-get away from-” He pointed over his shoulder at Richie with his thumb.  
“Fine. I see how it is. Eds Spagheds will stay with me.” (“Not if you keep calling me that.”)

Stan looked at Richie with disappointment, then Bill. He sighed and nodded all the same with a “I’m the designated driver,”. Bill just smiled and pulled him by his hand into the crowd. 

Richie turned back to Eddie, “My love. My Eds. My Spaghetti. I'm drinking because I’m relaxing. It’s something you could work on. In fact,” Richie eyed him and waggled his eyebrows, “I can think of a few ways to get you to relax. Tried and true on my dearest Sonia. Why do you think she’s even letting you out?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and elbowed Richie in his side, “Beep beep, asshole.” He looked up at Richie as the taller teen grinned down at him. The flashing lights reflected off his glasses: blue, purple, red, yellow. Eddie could practically feel the energy and excitement vibrating off Richie. He was in his element, surrounded by crowds and lights and loud music and high energy.   
Richie reached around him and pulled him flush against his side into a side hug. Eddie was used to the physical affection, all the Losers were, and when Richie leaned closer to him, Eddie caught the scent of vodka, cigarettes, and vanilla, which was surprisingly nice, even if the cigarettes made Eddie scrunch his nose a little. Richie smiled crookedly down at Eddie and glanced over him. 

“I gotta tell ya’ Eddie Spaghetti, you are lookin’ downright adorable in those fuckin’ overalls. Cute as a button, I’d say.”

Eddie scoffed in mild annoyance, and if his cheeks heated up, he’d blame it on the heat of the packed barn, “Yeah? Well, you look like you fought a raccoon and it won. Seriously, what the fuck are you even wearing?” Eddie raised an eyebrow and let his eyes roam over the atrocity that was Richie Tozier’s style. He had decided black ripped jeans, a black t-shirt with ‘Nobody knows I’m a lesbian’ printed in comic sans on the front, and a fucking floral button up that was literally in tatters was the epitome of fashion. 

“Ummm. It’s called fashion, baby. Look it up.” Richie grabbed the front of his floral shirt and winked. Eddie just looked away, a small smile threatening to spill across his face.   
Eddie turned towards the stage, where Bev and Mike had been setting up earlier. It was vacant now, aside from Richie, Bev, and Mike’s set up. When were they playing anyway? Eddie glanced at his watch: 7:57. 

Eddie looked back over at Richie, “Hey, what time are you guys-”

“RICH! Come on; it’s time.” Bev was striding over towards Richie. She grabbed his arm. He looked at Eddie as she dragged him towards the stage; he winked, “Party time, little man.”  
Bill, Stan, and Ben were suddenly at his side, ready for the performance, Bill with a cup in hand and Ben with his bottle. They watched as their friends made their way up onto the stage and got in place. Bev at her keyboard, Mike with his drums, and Richie with his guitar. Eddie chuckled when he saw the pink, blue, and purple guitar strap hung around Richie’s neck and shoulders. It had been a 15th birthday present from Bev. Richie hadn’t used anything else since. 

Eddie figured they must have warmed up earlier because the music turned off immediately. There were mumbles of complaint from the crowd until they realized what was happening. Everyone turned to the stage, where Richie, Bev, and Mike grinned at them. Once they had everyone's attention, Richie glanced at Bev and Mike; they nodded reassuringly . He turned back to the crowd in front of him, excitement evident on his face. 

“HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU ALL TONIGHT?”

Loud yelling and whistling filled the air. Eddie whooped along with Bill, Stan, and Ben. Richie continued, “Now, I know all of you are here to get fucked up, so let me introduce me and the boys here, just briefly before we bring the barn down. That dashing fellow to my left is Mycicle.” Mike smiled sheepishly and raised his hand. “That lovely lass to my right is Bev, and yes, she is one of my boys.” Bev smiled and flipped Richie the finger. Richie focused back on the crowd, “And I am none other than Richie Trashmouth Tozier. But, that’s not important. Let me introduce…” Richie paused for effect and Eddie facepalmed, “... THE LOSERS!”

Eddie sighed because, as extra as Richie could be, he was impressed by Richie’s ability to hype up a crowd. He could barely hear what Richie said next over the deafening cheers and excitement of the drunk crowd. He assumed it was the song they were starting with as Richie had started strumming. Bev and Mike joined in. They were good. Really good, but Eddie couldn’t remember what song they were playing. It was familiar. 

Richie opened his mouth and began in his slightly raspy voice. 

[I was walking down the street when out the corner of my eye-]

Eddie stayed near the others as they danced along with the music. Every single song the Losers played was fast-paced and fun, Bev and Mike’s voices mixing with Richie’s perfectly. Eddie could tell they put a lot of time into their set, a lot of love too. 

The crowd of high schoolers seemed to think so too. Eddie turned towards the others and shouted over the music, “Kinda funny how fucking all these kids seem to think the Losers are the shit here, but then treat us like shit in school.”

Ben laughed, “It’s ‘cause they're too drunk to notice who’s playing.” Bill seemed to find this extremely funny and started giggling loudly. Eddie figured he probably had had enough to drink, a sentiment that seemed to be shared by Stan because he took Bill’s drink from his hand and switched it with his water. 

The song ended. Eddie looked back up at the Losers. Richie chugged from a water bottle near Mike, who was saying something to Bev and him. Richie nodded and wiped his mouth with his bare arm. He walked back up to the mic at the front of the stage, while Bev switched out her keyboard for her bass guitar. 

“Alright you fuckers, only a few more songs, but now we’re gonna be playing one of my favorites, so get ready to bust a fucking move. Don’t let me down you drunkards.”

Richie gripped the end of his guitar and strummed the first cord. Eddie grinned. Now this was a song he recognized. 

[And take a look around the room  
Love comes wearing disguises  
How to go about and choose  
Break it down by shapes and sizes]

Eddie jumped along with the beat, feeling the bass in his bones, in his skull. Eddie looked up on stage, where Richie was nodding his head to the beat as he leaned close to the microphone. He made eye contact with Eddie. 

[I’m a man who’s got very specific taste]

The world seemed to go in slow motion as Richie stared at Eddie, an unnamable emotion in his eyes. Eddie could hear his heartbeat in his ears as Richie grinned.

[You-you-you’re just my type  
Oh, you got a pulse and you are breathing]

Richie winked and finally relinquished his stare. Eddie became suddenly aware of the crowd around him. He blinked, trying to reorient himself. Then he turned back to his friends. Stan and Ben were giggling to each other, as though someone had told a joke. Eddie furrowed his brows in confusion, then shook his head. He chalked up the strange feeling in his stomach to the single drink he’d had earlier. He smiled and joined them again and if he felt Richie’s eyes on him more than once throughout the rest of the night, he didn’t say anything. 

[You-you-you’re just my type  
I think it’s time that we get leaving   
You-you-you’re just my type]

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. this is my first pic for the IT fandom and my first time posting on ao3 so I'm sorry if the formatting or something is weird. hopefully i can keep this series going. thanks!


End file.
